A Toy Story
by Glittermonkey
Summary: Because 12-inch Jedi don't come in convenient two-packs.


**A Toy Story**

Author: Padawan Yung-Ju Tanida glittermonkey@earthlink.net>   
Pairing: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan, among others.   
Spoilers: absolutely none at all   
Disclaimer: Ain't mine, dammit. Please don't hurt me.   
Categories: Humor/Parody; Vignette   
Rating: G? They're just toys, for goodness sake ;)   
Summary: Just somethin' inspired by my continually fruitless   
search for a 12-inch Obi-Wan doll...   
Feedback: Hmm. I'm not sure I even want to claim authorship   
for this.... oh, what the heck. Tell me I'm sick. 

-- 

Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn was not in a happy mood. The situation   
just couldn't go on as it presently was -- not if his sanity was to   
remain intact. Jedi serenity and acceptance be damned. The lack   
of qualified padawans in this sector was simply appalling -- the   
very idea that any of these creatures could become a galactic   
defender of peace was as likely as his waking up tomorrow to   
discover he'd been granted joints in his knees. He stared sullenly   
at the pathetic lot of would-be apprentices before him, presently   
paired off and practicing a series of training exercises so that he   
could gauge their physical prowess. He stifled a groan of despair. 

Candidate Lightyear slashed at his partner, a raggedy-looking   
sock monkey, with the business end of his magic-marker-serving-   
as-makeshift-training-stick. He missed by a good three yards,   
being heavily encumbered by his bright green plastic spacesuit.   
The monkey made chittering noises at him, then lunged forward,   
feinted left and slashed him across the chest, setting off of a   
bright red button. The wings on his jetpack deployed and he   
rocketed off the nightstand training platform. The sock monkey   
winced as he watched his partner plummet to the unfriendly tile   
floor below, waving down his apologies. 

Candidates Sheridan and Picard seemed to be comparing field   
notes and sharing Stupid Crew Stories, having forgotten that   
they were supposed to be sparring. Candidate Malibu Barbie   
was off crying in a corner after having chipped a nail during a   
short and decidedly one-sided battle with Candidate Scully   
(looking quite fashionable in a no-nonsense way, Qui-Gon   
noted, in her belted black pantsuit). Candidates Mulder and   
Krycek seemed to have disappeared together earlier in the   
evaluation process, and if the sounds emanating from the   
dresser drawer were any indication, they probably would not   
be back any time soon. Candidate Maul appeared to be busy   
beating up the terrified stuffed teddy bear population on the   
sofa bed and no-one was in the mood to question him about the   
ethics of such actions. 

All in all, Qui-Gon decided, there just wasn't a single decent   
prospect among them. Of course, there had been a brief flare of   
new hope when that Luke kid had shown up, but a quick mental   
probe had shown him to be far too reckless for Jedi purposes.   
And truthfully, the boy seemed a little on the dim-witted side   
anyways. He was probably better off spending the rest of his   
days farming, or whatever it was he'd said he did. The handsome   
young man who had accompanied him, though... Solo, was it? Yes,   
he would have been a joy to "train", Qui-Gon mused, in ever so   
many ways. But it was clear that the two were joined at the hip   
and there would be no taking one without the other. The Jedi   
Master sighed in frustration. 

Leaning back against the wall, Qui-Gon tried to take deep   
calming breaths and expel his ever-growing stress and tension.   
He bowed slightly as Hidden Majesty Amidala stalked by their   
training grounds, surrounded by her coterie of orange-clad   
look-alike handmaidens. Probably on her way to a tea party   
with the those giggly wide-eyed Disney princesses that she'd   
oddly taken a fancy to. He caught himself watching the sway   
of her slim non-articulated hips with far more interest than   
he should have been, and silently berated himself. Yes, he   
would have to find an apprentice soon... he was obviously   
getting desperate. 

Not that he would have any trouble getting himself a date if   
he really put his mind to it, he told himself. After all, most   
people were quite impressed when he mentioned his prodigious   
size of twelve inches. Of course, he didn't actually specify   
that the number referred to his *height*, but he was sure that   
was besides the point anyways. 

From somewhere over in the direction of the computer desk,   
Qui-Gon caught the sound of high-pitched mocking snickers.   
He turned around in time to see Jedi Duel Action Figure   
Qui-Gon and his matching apprentice (both having shed their   
cumbersome plastic cloaks) watching him in barely suppressed   
amusement, cuddling happily with the help of their newly   
enhanced extra points of articulation (compliments of some   
ingenious product developer at Hasbro, Incorporated, who   
never imagined what his "improvements" would mean for the   
love lives of action figures everywhere). He ignored them   
with a dignified turn of his head, making a mental note to   
send Initiate Maul over to play with them later that day.   
He allowed himself a smirk. 

A little more time, Qui-Gon thought to himself. I'll give the   
Council, the Force, the Powers that Be, just a little more   
time to send a suitable padawan my way. 

*And...* spoke up a little voice in his head *...if that doesn't   
work, there's always that GI Joe fellow with the kung-fu grip...* 

~finis~   



End file.
